Chapter 1: Chapter 1 [Edited]
His name was Preston Ermoza, an ordinary boy.
His media and literature fanboying started when he was 6 years old.
He loved those forms of entertainment so much that he learned certain arts to mimic those well-drawn heroes and sometimes perfectly written villains, to the point of adopting certain of their training regimes, their hygienics, and even attempting to replicate their fighting styles to a certain degree. Although he failed in some or realised the ineffectiveness of others, it didn't make them any less attractive to him.
One day, while looking for something interesting on Netflix, he found an exciting series named The 100 and started watching it.
A few months after that, while going out to his forge in the forest, (he lived in a village next to a forest) it started raining. Not thinking much of it, he continued without seeking shelter. Unknowingly putting himself in danger due to the storm that was brewing.
*Rumble*
Before he could register what had happened, he was lying on the ground, most of his body charred black and crying in pain.
*Rumble*
The sound was heard once again as the rustling of leaves and cracking branches were all he heard before- "AAAAHH!" The tree fell on his legs and utterly crushed them.
And once more the unlucky man suffered as he felt the most excruciating pain that he had ever felt, his body being exposed to the tremendously hot flames that had enveloped the tree and burned him alive (A/N: I believe the highest form of pain is felt when you burn alive).
Calling for help was useless, after all, nobody was nearby and it would only help to amplify his pain.
Causing the end of his first life.
Opening his eyes, Preston found himself in a never-ending space devoid of colour, if that was possible.
He began thinking, 'So this is death, huh.'
"No, of course not," he heard. He turned his head around to see who was talking to him but found no one.
Blinking, he saw a new scenery: a grey sofa, a white desk, and a tall man with a bright light instead of his head seemingly sitting on thin air. "Are you god?" Preston asked confusedly. The answer he received was what he expected. "Yes, I indeed am," the now-named god responded.
"I wasn't a bad guy so I will go to heaven right? Or are you going to give me three wishes and reincarnate me in a world of my choosing? You know, like those novels I read," Preston asked again.
"Oh, you will be reincarnated, no need to worry about that, but not in a world of your preference. I'll select that place, as for the wishes, you won't be getting any, apart from a few bonuses of my choosing," God told him.
The deity continued "After all, I'm not ROB since to be ROB there need to be many other omnipotent beings whereas I am alone."
"Anyway, wait a few moments so I can decide which world you'll go to." God finished. In the minutes that followed, Preston wondered what world he would end up in.
Thinking about eating ramen with Naruto or fighting Luffy and whatever other things he would do in whatever universe he was reincarnated into.
"You'll go to The 100 dimension," the divine being finally announced, breaking the silence.
"What!!" shouted the startled dead man. "Why? Will all due respect, why can't I go to One Piece or Naruto or-," he tried pleading in vain with the most respect he could muster but was interrupted. "I make the regulations not you, the procedure of reincarnation is new to me and I want to do it my way," the immortal revealed.
"But I don't want to die, please send me somewhere else where I will have an easier time living,"
"Don't die then, you imbecile," the immortal chuckled.
"Oh, and one last thing. It's up to you to discover what tricks I put up your sleeve." the divinity finished.
"Wha-."
"Good luck," was the last thing our MC heard before he disappeared in a swirling vortex.
*Crying*
Cries were heard in a labour room seemingly made of metal.
You may wonder why a room made entirely out of metal existed for the sole purpose of bringing forth new life.
It was because this labour room was in an interesting place: the Ark.
The largest spacecraft ever manufactured in hopes of humanity surviving the nuclear apocalypse that had plagued Earth and letting the radiation-filled globe lose its deadly element.
But let's forget the past and concentrate on the new hero of this story.
As the woman named Mrs Terry was dying, she whispered, "His name is Preston," before finally kicking the bucket.
A few men and women came and took the woman's corpse to send it floating into space for the obvious reason of trying to avoid spending resources on her.
Unbeknownst to the others in the room, the baby was reflecting.
'At least I kept my first name,' the baby, now named Preston, thought.
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